


Treats

by glacis



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black is convinced Snape is hiding something. When he goes looking, he finds something, all right ... just not what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treats

Treats, by seeker.  Written for the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest (Snape/Black pairing)

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The war was over, the long dark defeated, but emotional wounds took much longer to heal than physical ones. A year of uneasy pardon after three years of underground freedom following twelve years of imprisoned hell had left Sirius Black with scars that would never fade and might never heal. He glanced down the head table at his fellow teachers, noting which one held his gaze (Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonagall, Hagrid), which ones hastily glanced away (Granger, Pomfrey, Pince, Malfoy) and which ones refused to meet his eye (Sprout, Vector, Hooch, Wood, Flitwick).

It made a sort of sense that the only ones who'd truly accepted him were those who'd spent time as animals, or who loved animals, or who were omniscient. He understood the ambivalence of those who hadn't walked in his paw prints, was encouraged that they seemed to be working past what they'd seen him do in the war, and was vaguely disheartened by those who were still avoiding him even after all they'd been through together.

And then there was Snape.

Snape, who watched Sirius, whose dead black eyes held a challenge without effort, who turned from Sirius as if Black was not worth his attention, yet rested brooding eyes on him much too often. Sirius knew, logically, that Voldemort was dead, the Death Eaters were defeated, and Snape had been on the winning side when it counted. It didn't matter.

Snape was up to something. And Sirius Black was going to bloody well find out what it was.

To that end, he called upon every trick he'd learned (with the exception of life as a dog) to discover what new dark secret Snape harbored. He shadowed the other professor when neither were actually in the classroom. He kept his eyes and ears open, waiting for an indiscreet action or word.

For the most part, Snape didn't seem to be doing anything wrong. But Snape was sneaky. Sirius watched, and followed, and waited, and watched some more.

There were some anomalies to Snape's behavior. A furtive trip down Knockturn Alley, to a supplies house from which he brought a strange scrying mirror. A few nonstandard magical supplies, potion ingredients that fit no recipe Sirius knew (although he was grudgingly willing to admit he didn't know what three fourths of the shit Snape bought at the apothecary's was used for) and, weirdly, a block of ivory.

The scent of manipulative magic was there, not strong nor steady, but whiffs of it caught in the folds of Snape's robe. A furtive look over the breakfast table, a smug little smile, as Snape shifted on his seat and stared back at Sirius. As if he had a secret. As if he was winning a battle only he knew he was fighting, and Sirius was losing, without even knowing why or how he was fighting.

It wasn't enough, so Sirius took it a step further.

He broke into Snape's chambers.

In the dead of night.

Using James' old invisibility cloak that he'd borrowed from Harry last time his godson was in town. Harry was currently in Minneapolis scouting for a new Keeper for the Cannons' farm club, so he wouldn't be needing it any time soon. Snape surely wouldn't suspect anyone else to be lurking (invisibly) about the place. It was the perfect opportunity to observe the snake in his natural habitat, dank and dark as it was. If the slimy bastard was getting up to no good, Sirius would see what it was.

As it was, he got quite an eyeful.

Just not the eyeful he expected.

He slunk down the stairs at half past one, going in through the maze of underground catacombs beneath the dungeons, coming out through a disguised door no one, including Snape but excluding the Marauders, knew about, and circumventing all Snape's alarms and wards. Sirius managed not to snicker out loud as he stepped into Snape's bedroom. So easy.

Then he nearly swallowed his tongue.

Snape was in bed, but he certainly wasn't sleeping. There were manacles chained to an O-ring embedded in the wall at the head of the bed, and Snape's left hand clutched one as if his life depended on it. Sirius followed the line of sweat-sheened, trembling arm, muscle bunched and outlined beneath the skin, to the wet fine hair beneath it, across the slender torso, to the peak of a dark nipple, then followed the trail of sweat sliding through dark hair down the center of the panting chest, past an abundant, rampant prick, leaking and shining, to lean, wide-spread thighs, and the right forearm leading to the flexing wrist and the white-knuckled fingers wrapped around the ivory dildo disappearing into the reddened, damp arsehole ... and bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.

Not quite the dark and dismal magic he'd thought to find. A tiny reproachful voice that sounded much like Lupin's whispered in his brain, You really should go now. It's not right to watch him when he doesn't know you're there. You should turn around and go right back out that hole into that corridor and -- before the little voice could finish bitching Snape moaned.

Loudly.

His fist stuffed the ivory prick so far up his hole that his knuckles pressed up against his arse, his back arched, every muscle in his body seemed to tense at the same time, and a ruddy fountain of come spurted out of him without so much as a touch to his prick.

It was the hottest fucking thing Sirius had ever seen.

The orgasm seemed to go on forever, before Snape let out a wounded little cry and his body collapsed. He lay there, panting, hanging from one arm, the other hand trapped between his thighs, his eyes closed, his mouth partially open, his hair caught in the sweat dripping down his temples. His eyelashes looked very dark against his cheeks, and it was the first time Sirius had ever seen color in his face.

The Lupin voice was immediately overtaken by the Snuffles howl. His nose twitched, his prick jumped, and his hands curled into greedy claws as he crouched, preparatory to leaping. Then his human brain kicked in and he froze.

He couldn't jump on Snape and fuck him through the mattress. They were enemies, for god's sake. Long-time enemies, mired in mutual distrust and bone-deep hatred. Simply because Snape was suddenly the hottest shag Sirius had ever seen didn't mean Snape would allow himself to be jumped. If anything, he'd probably scream so loud Sirius would fall down, stunned, and when he came to he'd find himself in the psych ward at St. Mungo's. If not back in Azkaban for attempted murder, because Snape would never believe Sirius only wanted sex.

Sirius had a hard time believing it.

Until Snape moved again, with a languid grace Sirius had never seen, and gently, slowly, pulled the dildo from his body. The long, thick, vaguely familiar-appearing dildo was shiny in the dim light from sweat and slick lubrication. Snape drew it up between his thighs, pausing to rub the tip behind his balls, writhing slowly and humping air as he did. Delicious little whimpers broke from his lips, making Sirius hungry, the sounds as dark and sensuous as his voice, only more beguiling for their very helplessness.

And when the hell had Sirius started thinking Snape was delicious?

The answer hit him like a brick to the back of the head, and he shook his entire body trying to absorb the shock. Years. He couldn't have wanted Snape for years. He'd *hated* Snape for years.

Of course.

Wanted to pound him to a pulp. Beat him senseless. Pound into him again and again ... his hand reached down and yanked at his balls before he came in his pants. Perhaps there was something to that Muggle claim about the thin line between hate and obsession. Then he shuddered, his fingers still clamped around his balls, as Snape nudged his own sac back and forth with the dildo, teasing himself back to hardness.

Sirius' eyes were glued to the hand working the dildo against the flushed, sweaty flesh. The scent of sex was nearly overpowering, even to a human nose, and Sirius licked his lips. He could practically taste the salt of Snape's skin. He unwrapped his fingers from his balls and opened his fly, shoving his hand down into his shorts and wrapping it around the shaft.

His movements slowed, mimicking the pattern Snape pressed against his prick with the dildo, and his eyes followed the movements, mesmerized. The dildo rose, skimming then pressing then skimming again, over a nipple, along the stretched neck, over the jaw to the opened mouth. Snape's lips caressed the head, then slid the dildo further in, until he was fucking his mouth with the thing. His eyes were shut, and he appeared to be enveloped in a fog of sensual bliss.

Then Sirius' eyes narrowed, and his hand stilled. Sirius shoved his trousers and pants down far enough to check out his own prick, ducking his head for a good look then raising it again to stare intently at the dildo Snape was wrapping his tongue around. No wonder that damned dildo looked so familiar.

Snape was fucking himself with an ivory reproduction of Sirius' prick.

Sirius came in his hand before he completed the thought.

Snape's eyes snapped open. His black gaze shot suspiciously round the room, pausing at corners and lingering on shadows, before passing over Sirius' invisible form. His head raised from the pillow. He released the manacle and propped himself on one elbow, still staring about the room. He sniffed. Once. Twice.

Shook his head and flopped back against the pillow.

"Give it up, Severus. Fantasy's one thing, but wishful thinking never got you anywhere. There's nobody here but you. He's not interested. God, if he ever thinks about you, it's no doubt with murder in mind." The whole time he muttered, his hands roamed over his body, plucking at his nipples, then sliding down over his skin to tug gently at his prick.

Murder was the furthest thing from Sirius' mind. He floated closer. More sinfully delicious little whimpers were escaping as Snape teased himself back to full hardness. Those long clever fingers worked at the flesh of his prick and balls, coaxing a response Sirius could feel echoed at his own groin. Then he shivered as he heard words interspersed with the whimpers.

"Yes, yes, please, yes," as Snape's hand squeezed and released, slid over and around his prick. "Harder, like that, yes," as he groped for the dildo and brought it back into play. "Fuck, oh fuck, yes," as his dark eyes snapped open and stared directly at Sirius.

Who nearly had heart failure.

"Show me! Oh, god, yes, just like that," Snape moaned as he shoved the dildo back in his arse. His eyes were fixed on Sirius. Or seemed to be -- but couldn't. Because Sirius was still invisible. Wasn't he?

Sirius nearly dropped the cloak, then sighed with relief. Which turned to a bitten-off curse of pure arousal at the way Snape was writhing on the bed again. He'd never really thought snakes were sexy before, but suddenly the serpentine movements were the sexiest damned thing he'd ever seen. Still, Snape was staring at -- or rather through -- him, and there had to be a reason.

Moving with extreme caution, both to ensure nothing slipped out from beneath the cloak and gave his presence away and because he was so hard he hurt, Sirius pivoted until he could see what it was Snape was staring at. Then he nearly dropped the cloak again.

It was the scrying mirror, mounted on the bureau, and figures were moving across the surface of it. He recognized the background behind the moving figures as his own bedroom, and wondered when Snape had scoped it out. Not that he dwelt on the setting for long, as he was too busy goggling and drooling at the scene being enacted for Snape's masturbatory pleasure.

It was Snape, and Sirius, on Sirius' bed. Snape was chained to the wall, stretched helpless to Sirius' raging desires and nonexistent mercy. Sirius had Snape's legs up over his shoulders and was rogering him like a pro. Pounding into him full force, rocking him clear off the bed with every thrust, and Snape took it like a seasoned slut, screaming for more, twisting and pushing down as hard as he was being thrust into. It was the second most arousing thing Sirius had ever seen.

The first being what he saw as he turned his back to the mirror, which was Snape fucking himself on an ivory replication of Sirius' prick.

Lupin's voice suddenly rang through him, asking him if he had any shame, and how could he intrude on such private moments, seeing things he shouldn't, things Snape kept secret for damned good reason -- Snuffles growled and Lupin shut up abruptly. The inane thought hit him that Snape's come smelled like a doggy treat, then he dropped the cloak, shed his clothes, and climbed up on the bed directly atop Snape.

Who did, indeed, shriek and buck wildly. Although it was impossible to tell whether it was at Sirius' completely unexpected appearance in the middle of his fantasy or the explosive orgasm he reached at that same moment. Sirius didn't bother asking. He simply reached down, took the dildo from Snape's nerveless fingers, tossed it behind him on the bed, pulled the bony knees apart, and shoved his prick in the nicely-loosened hole. And pumped.

Snape was still coming when he shoved in, and the spasms around his prick felt wonderful. Come spattered Snape's chest and Sirius, growling, leaned down to lap it up. Then grinned maniacally.

Tasted a little like doggy treats, too. The expensive ones he didn't like anyone to know he snacked on. His hidden vice.

Well, one of them, now.

Sputtering noises brought his attention back up to Snape's face, which was a picture of horror and arousal and pure sexual need and utter shock. A good look on him. Sirius decided he needed to see that look more often. But first, he had to come.

So he did. Hard. All that watching had primed the pump, and he came like a geyser, screwing himself as far into Snape as he could get and humping helplessly. Snape opened his mouth, whether to scream again or blast him with insults, Sirius didn't wait to discover. He shoved his tongue, still tingling with the taste of Snape's come, into Snape's mouth, and kissed him as thoroughly as he knew how.

Then he collapsed. Still buried in Snape, arms wrapping around his back, face falling forward to nuzzle into the sweaty hair bunched at the side of his neck. And waited for the condemnation sure to follow.

To his surprise, Snape wrapped his legs around Sirius', wrapped his arms about Sirius' shoulders, and asked him, "What took you so bloody long? You've been stalking me for days. Never were all that quick on the uptake, were you, Black?"

Sirius thought about and discarded several responses -- laughter, a punch to the nose, slapping Snape silly, tying him up and fucking him until he didn't have the breath or the brain cells for insults -- in the space of a heartbeat, then shrugged and bit the throat beneath his mouth. Snape moaned. Did that sexy writhing move again, and tightened his legs about Sirius' hips.

They could always fight later. No doubt would. But right then, Sirius was in the mood for more treats.

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end


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